There is so much testosterone flowing in this week’s column. We’re talking manly men, all of whom are series detectives and none of whom have been featured here before. So let’s revel in the lives of guys who make John Cassavetes and Lee Marvin look like they belong in a quilting circle.
A PURPLE PLACE FOR DYING by John D. MacDonald – Long before Jack Klugman was solving cases while living on his boat, there was Travis McGee, residing on a houseboat with his detective shingle hanging there for all to see. And before “slacker” entered our vocabulary, McGee fit the mold a bit with a dash of Philip Marlowe channeled by Elliot Gould.
From 1964, PURPLE is third in the long-running and likable McGee series. We meet McGee as he is traveling to meet a new client: a young bride named Mona Fox Yeoman. She takes a long-ass time to get to the point, which is a bit of a problem since a few pages later, someone takes a shot at her, killing her instantly.
McGee meanders through his investigation, first trying to have the police help him. But when they turn up, her body is gone, leaving no evidence and all clues pointing to her running off with her professor boyfriend whose sister is left high and dry. But McGee knows what he saw, and becomes pals with Mona’s husband, the much older Jass Yeoman. He’s the kind of man who controls the town with other men of his age.
But if you think you have an idea of what to expect, I’m here to tell you different. I was totally anticipating some crap solution to the case, but was thrown for a loop when certain other things happened instead. MacDonald writes McGee so breezily that you really get the feeling his investigation powers are lacking, kind of like Columbo. But as you’ll find out, he’s actually just as sharp.
BLACK MONEY by Ross Macdonald – Onto another guy’s guy: Lew Archer, another long-running, hard-boiled, take-no-crap detective. No matter what happens, he gets to the conclusion of the job he’s paid to do.
Lew is called upon by a poor little rich boy named Peter Jamieson, who’s the kind of guy who’ll take his bat and ball and go home if he doesn’t get his way. Peter is upset that Ginny – the girl he loves and was destined to marry – has fallen for a swarthy Frenchman named Martel.
This 1965 novel is filled with arrogant pricks you will want to punch in the face throughout. Archer tries to get into the background of Martel, only to come up against Martel himself, who seems to be hiding a shady past. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg in this little tale, where we are led to believe one thing until that other shoe drops in a big way. It becomes apparent who is behind the killings, but the reasons behind them are held until much later in the read, and well worth it.
Macdonald is one of those writers whose books are all still in print, but does not get the exposure he deserves. So put down his wife’s books and dig into some Archer novels, especially with that new collection of short stories that just came out.
SLEAZE by L.A. Morse – Finishing up this tribute to he-men, we have the second and final book featuring Sam Hunter. He’s a detective who gets more action than all the others combined in his field, as 90 percent of the women in this book sleep or has some sort of sexual encounter with him. Talk about giving the reader what they want. This 1985 book is just jam-packed with sex and violence.
Also included is a pretty good mystery: Sam is called upon by the editor of Sleaze magazine, which from the description, would make Larry Flynt blush. Some group of religious nuts called The Sword of Truth – run by a man who idolizes Charles Manson – is sending threatening letters. Hunter is sent to find out why, bedding down any woman he questions, including his female client.
I kid you not. All of them throw themselves at him, that it’s just comical. This book tries so hard to be something it’s not, and it’s just a cheap read. I mean, the mystery is pretty solid, and there’s a kicker toward the end you won’t see coming. There also are plenty of great moments of Sam either getting beat up or doing some serious damage.
But on the whole, you’ll be shaking your head in disbelief, saying, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” That’s not a slam; that’s a big endorsement. This is the type of novel that proudly fits my aesthetic for this column: nothing but a cheap thrill ride, so over-the-top, you won’t care.
Next time: Casey Kasem hates those damn dead dog dedications! –Bruce Grossman
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I believe Oscar Sail, created by Lester Dent, creator of Doc Savage was the first PI to live on a boat. Tony Rome, from Marvin Albert also lived on a boat pre-McGee.
Thanks Glen for the info. I was making a Quincy joke since it was one of the few shows we would watch in college late at night. It’s still better then all those CSI shows. And still one of the catchiest themes
I actually remember watching Klugman as Quincy back when I was a kid. These are my type of books. Thanks for the recommendations. I’ll have to check those out. I like the male characters in the books I read to be manly men and not a bunch of wussies.